


Fire up the night

by regsregis



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Kinktober 2018, M/M, PWP, Petplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 17:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16268759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regsregis/pseuds/regsregis
Summary: based on tumblr prompt petplay/formal wear





	Fire up the night

It all started really good, better than just good, with Rhys eyeing Jack from the moment he finished buttoning his dress shirt up and led all the way to the now and here, with Jack sprawled on an armchair and the amber of his whiskey softly gleaming in the low light of the apartament. Rhys has meticulously undone the first few buttons of Jack’s shirt before he himself was stripped bare sans his underwear and a dainty little collar slipped around his neck. Smooth black leather and a fancy clip at the back were complemented by a gold ladden outline of a cat’s head, one which Jack has just hooked his finger into, knuckle pressing just below Rhys’ adam’s apple as the man swallowed and finally shut up.

“That’s it kitten, you keep that pretty mouth zipped, good pets don’t talk back.”

See, problems started whenever Rhys opened his stupid mouth, this time to let a very fake and very flat ‘meow’. It was easy to tell he didn’t even try, instead, choosing to egg Jack on and prompting a disapproving furrow of his eyebrows.

Jack sat back, simply staring at the man kneeling before him on the floor, the tip of his boot trailing up his chest, another swig of the cool whiskey smoothly gliding down the back of his throat. Regardless of Rhys’ less than enthusiastic approach to this type of games, there was no denying that his eyes kept appreciatively roaming over Jack’s body, hooked on the stark white of the fancy shirt, the black and yellow of his bowtie and the midnight blue of the open vest stretched over his broad shoulders. Curious to see how far Rhys’ little fascination would go, Jack toyed with the open collar loosely resting over his collarbones, unveiling a bit more skin and eventually prompting the other man to make his move, raising slightly on his hunches and reaching out only to have his hand swatted away, chased with a shove to his chest.

“Nuh-uh, not so fast, show me how good kittens beg for a treat.” 

A grimace flitted briefly across Rhys’ face before he bowed his head to nuzzle against Jack’s knee, pushing his thighs further apart in the process. That was a little bit better in the acting department, Jack’s hand coming up to stroke through the slightly ruffled up hair, his touch firm but steady and earning him a dark gaze shot from under lowered lashes. That alone could get any man going, and Jack, being no exception, gave a light pull to the handful of soft hair in his grip with a murmured “go on,” tilting from his lips. He could feel a mismatched touch drifting against the back of his calf, quickly turning into kneading, Rhys working his muscles into a more relaxed state.

“Good boy, that’s a really good look on you Rhysie,” Jack couldn’t keep himself from filling the silence, light pets drifting to the side of the other man’s face as he rubbed his cheek against the inside of Jack’s thigh and inched higher. Soon Rhys was smoothing his hands up and to Jack’s hips, lulled into a more subdued state thanks to the constant stream of praise spoken in that low, warm tone that always seemed to do the trick for him. He gracefully avoided the straining material at the front of Jack’s dress slacks, mouthing at the sliver of skin just about his waistline. 

Jack, for his part was thoroughly enjoying not only the treatment but also, the view, the way Rhys’ body moved and wound, shoulder blades sticking up and muscles nearly dancing under the skin stained with blue ink. For all intents and purposes, at the first glance it sure looked like he was blowing him, the very thought effectively blowing Jack’s mind and somehow, not making it any less exciting, a bit like watching porn but with the added benefit of knowing he could move to the frontlines anytime.

Never the patient one, he clicked his tongue after a short while, “up here kitten,”  Jack pointed to the side of his neck and cocking his eyebrows when Rhys froze in one spot for a few seconds, tongue trailing over his lower lip.

Instead of where he was being pointed however, Rhys moved in for a kiss, first brushing his cheek to Jack’s and then seeking his lips, only to end up with a hand, pressed to his face and pushing him away, “stupid thing, no no no, that’s not what I said.”

From between Jack’s spread fingers, Rhys was glaring daggers at him, looking like he was ready to voice his displeasure before wisely opting for lowering his eyes.

Jack, feeling like he has won the stare off, let go of Rhys’ face and once again tugged on the loop.

He sank back into the plush finish of the armchair, alcohol pleasantly warming him from the inside and soft lips now nipping and drifting over his neck from the outside. He had the other man kneeling up between his legs, all warm skin and touch growing bolder by the minute, cybernetic fingers inching their way closer to the zipper of his slacks and Jack, in his vast benignancy, decided to let that keep happening. Soaking in all the subvert worship he has found himself at the end of, Jack focused on willing Rhys’ touch closer to his dick, his breath forced to stay measured and slow. His distraction however, was used against him, sharp teeth suddenly sinking into the skin at the side of his neck way too hard for comfort, tearing a surprised yelp from him.

“You little fucker!” he shoved the other man away, hand flying to rub over the bite mark, feeling the indentations left there. It definitely was going to bruise, far from the usual play bites. Rhys didn’t seem deterred, pushing back into Jack’s personal space, smirk pulling at the corners of his lips although he did offer a more soothing rub up Jack’s flanks, “ah, looks like someone forgot that kittens tend to have sharp fangs…” he trailed off only to grace Jack with a sultry, and not an ounce apologetic glance, “...and even sharper claws,” he finished before dragging his fingernails down over Jack’s skin. That had him bucking wildly under the weight pinning him down, Jack quietly scolding himself for the unplanned reaction. He did however pin a mental ‘you did good’ badge to his chest when he found a corresponding bundle of solid heat trying to press against his own groin. In his experience, Rhys was way more willing to play a more submissive role as long as he was allowed to do whatever he wanted and being denied that has clearly pulled him out of that subspace. 

This time Jack worked all four fingers under the collar, putting enough pressure to make Rhys choke, pulling forward with one hand while the other stifled the choking sounds as he pressed the palm over the other man’s mouth.

“Bad.” He gave a little shake, angered bother by the blooming aftermath of the bite and the defiant glare he was getting back, “fucking needs to be taught some manners. Shoulda’ muzzled you, or better yet, pull that teeth out one by one.” He was positively growling, eventually getting up to his feet and dragging the other up with him. It didn’t help that Rhys was sporting a wide grin he didn’t even bother hiding, which really made Jack wonder which one of them in fact was being played here.

The bedroom was only a couple rushed paces away, Jack hastily rummaging through the drawers until he pulled out a pair of handcuffs, worn leather and a maybe inch long give of a chain between them. Rhys helpfully turned his wrists up, sucking in a breath once Jack was done and then letting out a grunt when, after a brief moment of stillness, he was pushed down onto the bed. 

There was little to no gentleness to Jack’s movement as he yanked on the bound wrists, throwing them over the bedpost and just leaving Rhys like that, braced on his forearms and knees.

“You think you can do as you please kitten?” Jack traced one broad palm up the curve of Rhys’ ass before making a quick work of his underwear, “wrong,” and chased that with a brief smack just over the incline where his thighs melted into a more supple flesh, “that’s not how it works and it’s time you’ve understood that.”

Another smack was delivered before he switched his tactics, grabbing a tube of lube and squeezing some of it over his fingers. Without any prelude, he pushed two right between Rhys’ cheeks, finding little resistance and additional slickness there. The sudden intrusion was met with a low groan, Rhys instantly starting to push back, trying to guide the fingers inside of him to a more sensitive spot. He wasn’t going to get what he needed, Jack withdrawing after a couple purposeful strokes only to land another strike, not enough force to call it actual spanking but definitely leaving residual sting, his hand partly gliding off of the skin on an upward hit.

That finally managed to prompt a more genuine mewl out of that stubborn bastard, said bastard now scrambling to kneel fully, legs spread oh so inviting and tempting Jack to take more. The mewl turned into a pleased moan when the fingers pushed back in, more focused this time and merciless in their pursuit. At some point, between on strike and another burst of rough fingerfucking, Rhys gave a few futile tugs to the restrains keeping him from touching himself. To no avail, the man too distracted to figure out he could just lift his hands over the bed post. That had 

Rhys had his head dropped low between his arms, hair out of place and flush creeping down his shoulder, shameless little noises, not entirely unlike Jack’s name, pressed into the bedding.

As much as it was flattering, that was also against the strict ‘no talking’ order, “what is it that I hear” a hiss and Jack tacked another smack on top of that with his free hand. 

“Jesus fucking christ,” Rhys sounded rough, angry and impatient, rocking his hips back into the fingers inside of him, “just hurry up and fu-ahh,” words dissolving into a louder groan when Jack’s hand reconnected with his backside.

“Keep this up,” not without a solid dose of spite, Jack curled his fingers, rubbing over a single spot that seemed to wring the sweetest of noises out of the other man, “and there won’t be any fucking tonight.” Contrary to his words however, Jack was quick to pull the zipper down and free himself from the uncomfortable confines of social decency, for now content to settle on a couple lazy strokes. 

That had Rhys slightly twisting back, cheeky and flushed and looking well on the right way to wrecked, “please? I mean...meow?” Even someone as indifferent to other people’s existence not to mention emotions, as Jack could tell how much restrain it took from Rhys to at the very least placate him. All to get his cock inside of him. That was dedication Jack was more than willing to reward, lining himself up and giving a few experimental grinds - just keep Rhys guessing whether he really was going to get it or not.

He was, of course he was, he was but a man, a man with needs, ones which demanded to be sated as he slowly sank into that welcoming heat to the sound of a straining sound he wasn’t sure from which of them came. 

From that point, straight to the finish, Jack set a punishing pace, something his dick would most likely berate him for later, chasing his release and drowning in the unbridled, filthy noises spilling from Rhys’ parted lips. He hit his peak bowed over the other man, with his forehead pressed between the other’s shoulder blades, jerking him off as if he was jerking off himself and with a groan forced out of his chest when Rhys seized around him. 

“Why do I let you get away with all the shit you pull?” Jack huffed, eventually rolling off of the other man and trying his damndest to fix his shirt into some more presentable shirt. He ended up with a missed button and the front hilariously rumpled. In the meantime, Rhys freed himself from the cuffs, stretching out on his side with a satisfied sigh, fingers idly playing with the collar still ringing his neck.

“Oh that’s cause you, Jack,” Rhys’ smile was thick and sweet like liquid honey, coy glances contradicting with his well fucked state, “are _my_ bitch.”

**Author's Note:**

> not really my best but hey, you gotta make bad things to make good things


End file.
